


Substitution

by an_ardent_rain



Series: Justification [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kink Negotiation, Original Character(s), Pre-Relationship, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:26:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6790036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_ardent_rain/pseuds/an_ardent_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen plays Kink Bingo IRL with a guy with a Punisher fetish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Substitution

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to let you read the summary/tags and guess what this fic is about. Frank is... there? At the beginning and the end? (And also in Karen's imagination.)
> 
> This is kind of nothing like the first part, and the sex happening is between Karen and the OC, though as you might have guessed from the tags, Frank's who she is thinking about.
> 
> So... enjoy, I guess? I hope you enjoy, anyway, I almost didn't post this, ha.

“So how do you feel about handsome twenty-eight year old veterinarians?”

 

Karen let her purse fall onto the floor, toeing off her shoes as she locked the door behind her. “What? A… Veterinarian?” Frank waved from his place on the couch, his feet up on her coffee table next to a plate with a half-eaten sandwich and a plush blanket covered in frolicking puppies draped over his lap. Karen looked down at the floor to hide her smile.  She walked over and sank down onto the other end of her couch, stretching her legs out and putting her feet in Frank’s lap. “Foggy,” she said, arching her back for a moment to stretch it out and let it pop, “what are you talking about?” Frank grunted without looking at her and pushed her feet off.

 

“Handsome. Twenty-eight. Veterinarian. From the picture I can only assume about five foot nine and roughly two hundred pounds? Two fifteen? One eighty maybe? I don’t know, I can’t estimate weight.”

 

She put her feet back in Frank’s lap and wiggled her toes. He rolled his eyes but let her be.

 

“That sounds like a perfectly adequate person.  I guess I feel positively?  How competent a veterinarian is he?”

 

“As he’s never treated me, I can offer no firsthand experience.  But I assume he’s good at his job?  Sandra says that puppies love him. And since you feel positively… You possibly have a date with said veterinarian this weekend. If you want?”

 

She put a hand on her forehead and let tired eyes close. “Why would I have a date? I don’t want a date.  Foggy, please tell me this isn’t a set up.”

 

He laughed nervously, tinny through the phone. “No, not… Not really? I mean, don’t think about it like that, there’s no pressure. He’s my co-worker’s brother and I really think you’d like him. I mean, I  _ really  _ think you’d like him.”

 

“Okay, Foggy, I  _ really  _ don’t think saying it that way is going to change my mind.”

 

“Change your mind from enthusiastic consent? Well great, i’m glad it won’t. Why would I want to do that?”

 

She exhaled and rolled her eyes 

 

“Karen, really, you have so much in common!  He’s nice and smart,  _ you’re  _ nice and smart, you both live in New York, you both know people who work at the same law firm, and, uh…  Well…  Speaking of things you have in common, there’s - “

 

“Well, Foggy, we’re also both humans, but that doesn’t mean we’d be able to carry on a decent conversation.”

 

“Hey,” Frank said quietly, elbowing her side.  She glared at him but he ignored it.  “Nelson trying to set you up?”

 

Foggy was saying something, but she wasn’t listening.  “Foggy?  Foggy.  Can you hold on just a second, please?”  He said something affirmative and she tapped ‘mute’ on her phone, pressing it against her shoulder.  “What is it, Frank?”

 

He shrugged lightly.  “I asked if he was trying to set you up.”

 

“Obviously,” she said, “since you’ve been listening to our conversation.  Why?”

 

He brought his legs down off, feet off her table as he pushed hers off his lap.  She bent her knees and tucked her toes under the heavy warmth of his thigh.  He pulled the plate toward him and picked absently at the bread.  “Because I think you should go.”  He picked up the sandwich - meatball, she noticed - and took a bite.

 

Her brows furrowed.  “Why?”  Why in the world would I go on a date with this guy?”

 

Frank laughed without humor.  “You know how you spend your nights, right?  Either chasing down a story, or half-drunk and asleep, or here playing house with me.  And I can’t exactly be good for your social calendar.”

 

She shrugged, a little uncomfortable.  “Hey, you’re pretty good company when you don’t need patching up.  It’s not like I mind, Frank. I’d tell you if I didn’t want you here.”  And she had before, on nights when he was bloody and bitter and anger seeped from beneath his skin like an oily haze.  Those nights she gave him information, or first aid, and then sent him on his way.

 

“Still,” he said, his voice weighty and cautious in a way she’d never heard before.  Their eyes met and held and she felt her face heat up.  She couldn’t read him, something shuttered in his expression.  “I think you should go.”

 

“You think I should go on a date.”

 

“Yeah,” he said.  “I do.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Look.  You spend too much time with me.  It’s not…  Not good for you.  For anyone.”  He clasped his hands in his lap and looked away from her.

 

She scoffed.  Her phone was still pressed to her shoulder and Foggy was saying something she couldn’t make out.  “Oh for God’s sake, don’t give that crap.  I don’t need you to dictate who I spend my time with.”

 

“I’m not dictating anything.”  He looked hard, his voice creeping into a cadence of anger.  But then he exhaled, his shoulders slumping, and the tension eased away.  “Don’t go if you don’t want to, I don’t give a damn.  I said I thought you should, not that I was going to try to make you.”  He wiped his mouth with his hand and let his thumb rub across the coarse stubble on his jaw.  “Jesus.”

 

“Sorry,” she said, contrite.  It was an unsettling feeling, for things to be rocky with Frank - she’d gotten so used to him as a familiar presence, as an uncomplicated part of her life, when really he was more complicated than almost anything else.  She knew little about him, and he didn’t open up.  Maybe she was getting too comfortable.  He was still a murderer, she hadn’t forgotten that, but she hadn’t allowed herself to think about it in too long a time.  She swallowed and stared at him.  He was looking away from her, down towards the table, and she traced the bumpy line of his profile from his forehead to his chin.  Maybe, she thought, he was right.  Maybe putting space between them would be a good thing.  She didn’t let herself think about why.

 

“I guess it would be nice to do something fun for a change.  Not that I didn’t enjoy the night I helped you relocate your shoulder, of course, but I think I could be okay with something like dinner and a movie.”

 

Frank relaxed and nodded, and she unmuted her phone.  “Still there, Foggy?”  She stared at Frank, going back to his sandwich as Foggy replied.  “I think,” she said, “that date this weekend sounds great.”

 

* * *

 

The man in front of her was gorgeous. Foggy had not been kidding about the handsome part of his description - if anything, he hasn’t given the guy enough credit. He was smiling, with warm, earthy brown eyes and close cropped black hair. He held up one arm to say hello and his bicep was nearly bursting through the seam of his shirt. It was a dark blue henley with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had on a leather watch and some sort of medical alert bracelet on his left wrist, and his hands were big with square palms and long fingers.  Frank had been right - it wouldn’t hurt just to see how things turned out. And Foggy surely wouldn’t have set them up unless he had vetted the guy. She sighed.  Best to get it over with.

 

“Hi,” she said, holding out a hand.  “I’m Karen.”

 

“Hey, great to meet you.”  He shook her hand firmly and smiled, showing off a set of straight, white teeth.  His left incisor was pointed, like a fang, and that was both attractive and humorously appropriate.  “I’m Christopher Yun.  My sister Sandra works with your friend.  Foggy, I think?”

 

“That’s right,” she said.  He waited for her to sit down on the other side of the booth before he took his seat.  A waitress came over and took their drink order, and they smiled pleasantly but silently at each other until she brought two glasses of water, and a beer for Christopher.  He seemed a little more at ease when he had something to do with his hands, so as soon as he’d taken a sip, Karen tried to start a conversation.  “I haven’t gone out in what feels like forever - it’s nice to do something fun for an evening.  Normally I’m too busy with work.”

 

“Oh, what do you do?  A reporter, I think, right?”

 

She nodded as she took a drink.  “That’s right.  I work at the  _ Bulletin _ .”

 

“Sounds exciting.”

 

“Maybe.”  She shrugged.  “Definitely gets that way when I’m working on a big story, but a lot of the time I’m in an office on my computer, doing research or trying to talk to sources.  I spent two hours yesterday on a video on youtube, trying to figure out which street it was taken on.”  She snorted and looked down at the table.  “I guess maybe I did need to get out.”

 

He laughed and his smile grew boyish, lifting up on one side.  He had a dimple.  It was very attractive.  It would, she thought unbidden, look just as attractive on Frank.  “Well, Karen, I promise you I will provide as entertaining an evening as possible.  No youtube videos here.”

 

“Not even funny ones about cats?”

 

“Oh, I have  _ so many _ funny ones about cats.  If you’re ever interested.”

 

“Thank you.”  She smiled back at him, and he tugged on the lobe of one ear, looking almost bashful.  She straightened up, feeling a little swell of pride that she had that effect on him.  “You know, I don’t normally go on blind dates - usually being set up never works out for me - but Foggy said he thought we’d have a lot in common.”

 

“O-oh.  Right.”  The change was immediate and to her eyes, bizarre.  He visibly turned red, a deep blush over taking his entire face.  Her eyebrows shot up as he looked down sheepishly at the table.  “Yeah, that’s what, uh.  What Sandra said, too, that our…  _ interests  _ lined up.”

 

“Um.”  Karen looked around, half hoping the waitress would be back to take their orders.  She’d barely glanced at the menu, but at least it would kill whatever awkward atmosphere had cropped it.  That was exactly why she hated being set up.  There was always  _ something _ .  “Foggy didn’t mention that to me.  He didn’t say anything other than that you were a co-worker’s brother and he’d heard you were good-looking and a great veterinarian.  I haven’t heard anything about  _ interests. _ ”  She put the same emphasis on the last word he’d done.

 

He tugged his ear again, harder, and no longer smiled.  “I didn’t really want to bring this up over dinner, I was hoping that after…  But uh…”  He glanced over to his left and then cleared his throat.  Their waitress was walking over.

 

“You two ready to order?” she asked with a smile.  She was a tall, slender black woman whose nametag read ‘Sally,’ and she had long hair in braids and sparkling gold tips on the end of each nail.  “Or I can come back if you need more time.”

 

“Oh, no, I’m ready,” Christopher said, giving Karen a shaky grin.  He looked down at his menu and then back up to Sally.  He ordered a burger and fries and Karen ordered a caesar salad.  

 

Once the waitress had stepped away again, his unease returned and he wouldn’t meet her eye.

 

“Hey,” Karen said, keeping her voice soft and soothing.  “I know you said you didn’t want to bring it up over dinner, but.  Foggy didn’t say anything other than we had things in common.  Clearly he meant something specific there, but he did not mention what that was to me.”

 

He blew out a long breath of air.  “Well like I said, it’s not.  It’s kind of private.”  He gave her a significant look, like she should already know what he meant.  “Something that you like?  That… maybe you shouldn’t?”

 

Warning bells rang in her head and she scooted a little further back in the booth.  She grabbed the strap of her purse and tugged it closer to her lap.  “I’m sorry, I don’t think - “

 

“No! No, it’s not…” He groaned. “It is weird, I guess, but you don’t need to be embarrassed.” That really hadn’t been the problem, but she’d give him the benefit of the doubt and not leave. Yet. At least the diner was well-lit and had a good number of other people there. “I promise I won’t judge you for it, because I… I like the same thing. I know it’s our first date, so if you’re a little uncomfortable jumping straight into sex I understand. I’d definitely like to get to know you.”

 

Dread settled in the pit of Karen’s stomach as she started to form an idea about what exactly Foggy had said they had in common. “Right. So, um. Just so we’re on the same page… When you say we like the same thing, you mean… ?”

 

He leaned forward, his eyes bright. “You know,” he whispered. “ _ The Punisher _ .”

 

And there it was, exactly what Karen had been afraid of. She nodded, her lips pressed together into a thin, angry line. Foggy was going to pay for this, goddamnit. “Right. That.”

 

He grinned again, any awkwardness on his part all but gone. “I know. And I know sometimes it’s hard to admit. Believe me, it’s so nice to meet someone who gets it, who’s  _ normal _ .” Karen just nods, trying to keep her face fixed in a bland smile. “Like I know what he does is wrong, it’s terrible, unforgivable. But sometimes don’t you just…” He licked his lips and leaned in closer. “Don’t you just feel grateful? For what he does? For getting all those awful people off the street?  I know that’s terrible to say, and I honestly never thought I’d feel that way, but.  But what if there really are some people the world is better off without.”

 

“I’ve certainly heard arguments supporting what he does.”  She crossed her legs at the ankle and tilted her head to glance at the table, staring at him under the fan of her lashes.  He’s wild eyed and much more animated.  And he’d mentioned sex, which had to mean that not only did he appreciate Frank’s work, he also had the same fetish Foggy thought she had.  Which explained the set up.  It would probably not be a good idea to think about why Foggy had been telling handsome veterinarians - or their sisters - about her supposed Punisher fetish, or how exactly the subject had even come up.  Foggy was really,  _ really  _ going to pay for this.

 

“It’s crazy, I know.  But there really is a prosaic kind of logic to it.  No room for moral ambiguity in his code - ironic, really, considering.”  He stopped talking for a moment and stared at her.  “You know, Karen, I get the feeling that maybe you haven’t done this before.”

 

“Oh, um.”  Her face heated.  “I…  No, not really.  I’m not sure why Foggy thought this was a good idea, or why he thought I couldn’t get a date on my own.  Without considering…  The reason he set us up.”

 

“Hey.”  He waited until she looked up to meet his eyes and then he smiled.  “This is just dinner, okay?  No pressure.  We can talk about other things - work, music, the weather, whatever you want - and forget this revelation even happened.  And if you want to go home, with or without my number, that’s fine.  No hard feelings.”  His smile grew and there was that dimple again.  “If, however, you are interested in more?”  He reached down, lifting off the vinyl seat to pull something out of his back pocket.  He showed her a plain leather wallet.  “Well.”  He unfolded it and pulled out what looked like a key card.  “I got a hotel room.  Not my place or yours, totally neutral.  If you want to meet me there, you can take this key card and I would be thrilled to see where the night might go.”  He set it down on the table, and then slid it over to her side.

 

Karen swallowed and stared down at it.  Of course she wasn’t going to take it, she thought.  She had no interest in this guy, and she certainly had no interest in his fetish.  She could admit that maybe, once or twice, she’d imagined what it might feel like to be with Frank.  And yeah, she’d touched herself thinking about him, about his voice and his mouth and what was in her mind a really impressive cock.  But that was fantasy, not anything real.  And even though the lines were blurred here and the situation was…  _ unique _ , she was afraid this would make it too real.  Frank was something she could never let herself want.

 

The food came and they ate with a much less weighty conversation.  Christopher was smart, and funny, and talking to him was easy.  She still felt a little awkward, but he went out of his way to keep the conversation going, to keep things from stalling and getting uncomfortable again.  She kept looking at the hotel key card.  Considering.  

 

When the check came she asked for separate tickets and he didn’t protest and try to pay.  Then they were standing, about to leave.

 

“Thanks for a great dinner,” he said.  “I had a nice time.”  He smiled again, showed that pointed tooth, and Karen leaned in, let him press a kiss to the side of her mouth.  “You have a way home?”

 

“Actually…”  She turned the card over in her hands, feeling adventurous and excited but still unsure.  “Maybe I don’t have to go home yet.”

 

* * *

 

The hotel he’d chosen was nice - clean, if not luxurious.  Nicer than apartment, she thought.  There was a mini bar, and she’d poured a little whiskey.  It made her feel warm, helped settle her nerves.

 

“You were right,” she said, leaning against the wall by the window.  “I don’t really do this.  But what about you?”

 

“You mean one night stands or the whole Punisher thing?”

 

She blushed and heard him chuckle as she raised a hand to hide her face.  “The whole Punisher thing.”

 

“Not often, no.  Or, well.”  He hummed, and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans.  He was leaning against the table, near enough to her to talk quietly, to keep her aware of him, but not so close she felt uncomfortable or trapped.  “I wouldn’t say often, no, but.”  He scrubbed a hand through the short hair on the back of his head.  “I’ve definitely done it before.”

 

“You did mention  you were looking for someone…  Um.  Normal.  Who was.  Into this as well.  Have you had some… not normal experiences then?”

 

He reached over to her glass, a question in his eyes.  She nodded, her arms crossed over her chest and he took a sip, then set the glass down near the edge just out of range of her elbow.  

 

“There have been a few times I felt like I didn’t know what I was getting into.  I slept with one girl who was really into being punished - that was all she wanted, for me to pretend to be the Punisher and punish her,  _ hurt  _ her. I get it, I guess, but there was no way I was doing that! I had no idea how to hurt her without actually hurting her, I didn’t know what was okay to do to her, we’d need a safe word, and…” He shook his head. “And besides that - because I really wasn’t into it - that’s completely against what the Punisher is about. He’s not going to hurt somebody for no reason, somebody who didn’t deserve it. That was just. That was a bad date. Although.” He laughed. “Bad, yes, but not the weirdest by far.”

 

“Oh?” Karen grinned at him. “Feel free to elaborate.”

 

“There was Taylor, who wanted to role play the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen while I was the Punisher. That was… Kind of bizarre, honestly. Then gunplay girl, who wanted me to fuck her with the barrel of a gun. Not a gun dildo or anything, but an actual gun. Actual fake gun, to be more accurate, I guess. I didn’t have a real gun for obvious reasons. And then Chrissy I met in Macy’s who was way, way too into the murder part of it.”

 

Karen wrinkled her nose. “The murder part? Oh my God, what do you mean?”

 

He shifted uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck. “She wanted me to pretend I was the Punisher, and that i’d just gotten through  _ punishing.  _ She wanted me to describe it, in detail. Like how many bullets I shot and how many men were dead, and to embellish it, talk about losing my gun and having to fight somebody off with my bare hands. She was kind of creepy, she started touching herself while I was talking about some guy I supposedly stabbed.”

 

“Well shit.” Karen shook her head and took a drink. “Sounds like you have terrible luck finding, uh. Compatible partners.”

 

He smiled, and it was such a warm expression she found herself smiling back. “Maybe my luck has finally changed.” 

 

This, she knew, was the time to tell him the whole truth. Despite her initial reservations she was having a good time with him, and even though he’d accepted the date clearly having expectations for after, he had been friendly and flirty and she hadn’t felt so desirable since… Since Matt. More than work, more than maybe anything else, Matt was the deterrent. She’d been so… giddy, so flattered that he’d shown interest, so trusting. And then he’d lied to her, and there’d been another woman, and he was fucking  _ Daredevil _ . She didn’t need that again. If she wanted friendship, she had Foggy - and to some degree, at least, she did still have Matt. If she wanted guidance, she had Ellison, though his guidance extended only to her job and she tended to trust her own instincts more than his. And if she just wanted companionship, or a male presence, she had Frank. She... didn’t know how to classify Frank.

 

The problem was, she didn't really have anyone to turn to for sex. And here was a gorgeous - good fucking God was he gorgeous - man interested in her, willing to do almost anything she wanted, and the only catch was she had to pretend to have a fetish she didn’t really have. It was tempting. She knew she  _ should  _ tell the truth, but a part of her suddenly didn’t want to.

 

“Look,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, “there’s something I need to tell you,”

 

His expression was gentle, nothing but attentive interest. “What is it?”

 

“I was…” She let out a breath. “I was on the Punisher’s defense team. I met him. And I… I think that maybe there’s been a misunderstanding.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. What could she say? Not the truth, that was for sure, not that she knew him, that to her he was  _ Frank _ . “I don’t… I think maybe you - “

 

“Hey,” he said quickly, soothingly, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but please don’t get the wrong idea. Me being here has nothing to do with that. If you wanted to tell me stories, sure, that would be cool as hell. But you’re gorgeous, Karen Page.” He walked over to her and slowly took her face in his hands. He was patient, respectful, telegraphing every movement so she could tell him no the minute she felt uncomfortable. Clearly he’d done this a lot.  “And I’d want to be here with you regardless. I was nervous when Sandra told me she’d gotten me a date, but I’m so glad I came.”

 

“Yeah,” she agreed, surprising herself. “So am I.”

 

“So, uh.” He sat down on the foot of the bed. “Maybe we could talk about what we like? What’s okay and what’s not?”

 

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Yeah, of course.” She was actually going to do it. She’d decided. Foggy would probably be over the moon about it, happy that the date had worked out. And Frank would be -

 

Frank would be disgusted, actually, she thought. It was a sobering realization. She didn’t just see the Punisher, just the persona, she knew the man underneath. Or at least she was starting to. Pretending felt disingenuous, and a little disrespectful to Frank.

 

“I’ll go first,” Christopher said, all in one breath. “The reason I… The reason I want this. I’ve always been kind of fascinated with these vigilantes, with heroes, but I never gave it much more thought than that. It never affected me. And then the Punisher comes along, right on the heels of Wilson Fisk. And I know I should condemn him. I’m a healer, first of all, I shouldn’t condone his behavior, even implicitly. Murder is wrong. I know murder is wrong, I  _ believe  _ murder is wrong. But when somebody hurts my family or someone I care about? I want to hurt them.” He looks down. “It’s a revenge fantasy. And,” he laughed, “I only tell you all that to explain that initially it wasn’t a sexual thing. I’m close to what you’d call embarrassingly vanilla, at least I was before, so this. This has… This has been a new experience?”  He laughed.  “Yeah.  Before, I had never sought out partners for a specific reason or specific kink, I guess.”

 

“Yeah, me neither.” She smiled, played with the chain of her necklace, tried to quell the nervousness rising in her stomach.

 

“So what do you like? Or what do you want me to do?”

 

“For me it’s about conviction. Being that  _ sure _ , that steady. That’s… powerful. And attractive. He’s…” She cleared her throat, trying to push Frank’s face out of her head, trying to picture only the idea of him, of the Punisher, without any of the baggage attached. It was a lie, she realized, because any attraction she had was to Frank.  “He’s dangerous.  And thinking about being with him makes me feel dangerous.”

 

“I get that,” he said. He licked his lips and gestured her over, and Karen took a seat on the bed beside him.

 

“He’s wild.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “And there’s something intoxicating about imagining that kind of power at your disposal, and… in some way…” She swallowed. “Under your control.”

 

He put a hand on her shoulder. She felt the pressure of his thumb through her blouse and it send a frisson of unexpected desire rocketing through her. He leaned in. “You want to tame him, maybe. A man that strong, that powerful, that  _ dangerous _ . But helpless.  At least when it came to you.”

 

“Yes,” she said, while her mind protested  _ no, no, no  _ and she tried not to think of Frank. Christopher rubbed circles on her shoulder with the pads of his fingers. She could feel his breath on her neck. Her breasts suddenly felt too sensitive under the lacy cups of her bra, and she knew her panties were wet. Would he kiss her?  _ Call me ma’am,  _ she thought, shame pooling in her stomach. She felt too hot, ashamed and aroused, and she wasn’t sure how much of the desire was for the man in front of her or if it was all for the man she left in her apartment.

 

“I’ll let you hold me down,” he said, brushing her hair aside and kissing her neck. His lips were soft and warm. “If you want. Do whatever you say. Do you want to change me? Control me? Be the one who holds my leash?”

 

Karen whimpered and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Shit,” she said. “I want… I want…”

 

“Tell me,” he said, putting a finger underneath her chin. He tilted her head, forced her to look at him, and his wasn’t the face she wanted to see. “Tell me what you want.”

 

Karen closed her eyes and pulled him against her. “Do you have… The-the jacket? The Kevlar?” She gulped. “The skull?”

 

“Fuck.” He spoke against her lips and she felt the heat of his breath in her mouth. “Fuck. Yeah. I can wear it, or do you want it painted on?”

 

He’d brought a whole bag with him - his toys, he told her, pulling out the vest she’d asked about. But it was too flimsy, too fake, too obviously a cheap replica, and she shook her head. “Okay,” he said, stripping off his shirt. He only had a white tank underneath and his biceps looked even better than she’d imagined. “What about this?” He dug through the duffel bag he’d brought and pulled out a small container. “Edible body paint.”

 

He pulled off his undershirt and with trembling fingers Karen unbuttoned her blouse. He held his arms up over his head, crossed at the wrist, and with slow, deliberate strokes she painted the Punisher’s signature skull on the bare, tan skin of his chest.

 

When she finished she leaned in and dragged the tip of her tongue across his skin to taste him.  Vanilla.  He exhaled, breath ragged, and said “What do you want? Tell me, tell me exactly what you want to do to me.” He was on his knees, in the floor, panting and staring at her with eyes gone black with desire. “You wanna fuck me? Some girls who want this, that’s what they ask for. Make a man who makes criminals beg for their lives beg for them to pound his ass?”

 

She flushed and kneeled down in front of him. Maybe, she thought, but she looked at the front of his jeans tented by his dick, and imagined the fullness of him inside her. Her mouth went dry. She decided to be selfish.

 

“No,” she said, rubbing her palm against him, “I want to ride you.  I want to feel every inch of you inside me.” She wanted it so bad she almost said  _ please _ , but she stopped herself, reminded herself that it was her time to take control. To take what she wanted. “But first kiss me,” she said. His arms were still above his head. “Kiss me, and call me ma’am.”

 

He grinned and leaned up, caught her mouth with his. Her lips parted and she felt the wet slide of his tongue and the gentle scrape of his teeth as he pressed his mouth against hers.  Heat lanced through her, burning away any doubts she had.  He pulled back and looked at her with eyes shining. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

She stripped out of her skirt and helped him pull off his pants. They climbed onto the bed, in their underwear, and she straddled his hips.  

 

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, letting his hands skim up her sides.  “What’d I ever do to deserve this?”

 

“Who said you deserve it?” she asked, rocking her hips against him.  He groaned and moved his hands up to cup her breasts.  “This is charity.  This is because it’s what I want.  _ I  _ deserve it.”

 

“Yeah,” he breathed. “And it’s my business giving people what they deserve.” His thumbs brushed over her nipples, hard through the delicate fabric of her bra, and she gasped, throwing her head back. She braced herself against him, her palms pressed to the skull painted on his chest.  His hips canted up, off the bed, the fullness of her breasts cupped in his hands.  He rose a little and she scooted back on her knees, letting him sit up.  He ducked his head and leaned down to kiss along her collarbone.  Karen shuddered and grabbed the back of his head, fingers slipping through the soft, shorn hair.  He bit down gently and she hissed, reaching behind her back with the other hand to pull at the hooks holding her bra.

 

“Your business, huh?” she asked, turning her head to press her nose against him, smelling the woodsy scent of his shampoo.  “You’re out almost every night, taking care of business, aren’t you?”

 

He pulls her bra straps down her shoulders, running his tongue along the space between her breasts.

 

“Don’t you care that it worries me?  That I never know if you’re going to be okay?  I think those criminals, your…  your  _ victims  _ get more of your attention than I do.”

 

He grinned up at her.  The bra was unhooked and he pulled it down, helping her shake it off her arms.  “Well ma’am, you’ve got all my attention now.”

 

Her body throbbed, a blinding desire uncoiling and working its way to a fervid, agonizing need between her legs. His tongue was hot and wet when it landed against her skin, and he dragged the flat of it against her nipple.  She sucked in a breath and tilted her head towards the ceiling when he started to suck, pulling gently with his teeth.

 

Fuck, that felt good.  She could barely think straight, too caught up in the sensation of pleasure thrumming through her, the sensation of bliss his mouth was pulling from her  She moved over on the bed and laid down on her back and he followed, leaning over her, his mouth only leaving her for a moment.  He sucked harder, teasing her with an edge of pain that made her toes curl.  He pulled back and blew and she whined, arching her back.  “Don’t stop,” she commanded.

 

“Yes, ma’am.”  He hovered over her and touched her with only the tip of his tongue, licking slow and languid over the peak of her breast.  Her hands grabbed the bedsheets, twisting them into handfuls as she fought her body and tried to keep still. He moved to the other breast, just as slow, still teasing, taking lick after tiny lick until her nipple was hard and wet and aching, and she was arching up off the mattress, pushing herself into his mouth. 

 

“That’s good,” she said, “that feels so good.”  She hooked a leg around his hip, driving him toward her center.  “It’s hard to imagine you being gentle like this.  The same man who hangs people on meathooks.  Who comes in like an army, like a relentless, unmerciful storm.”

 

“I’m not being gentle for your sake,” he said.  “It’s for mine.  I need to keep my head if I’m going to keep this up all night.”  He drew a circle around her nipple with his tongue, eyes up to catch hers.  “If I’m going to make you come again and again and - “

 

“Oh God,” Karen said, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.  “Yeah, I.  I need you know.  Get a condom on, right… right fucking now, okay?”

 

She knew what’s coming, and it was Frank’s voice she heard when he said “Yes ma’am.”

 

He pulled away from her and stood up.  She watched as he took off his boxers, stared at the muscles of his thighs and his narrow hips and the length of his dick.  He grabbed a pack of condoms from his bag and tore one open.  She rolled a finger over her clit as he rolled it on, biting her lip so hard it stung.  

 

“How do you want me?” he asked.

 

“On your back,” she said.  “On the bed.”  She got to her knees and moved to the edge, watching as he laid out, the large warmth of his body so inviting her mouth watered.  “And put your arms above your head.”  He did as he was instructed and she climbed over him, straddled him again, pinned his arms down with her small hands.  She kissed him, closed her eyes, pictured a different body beneath hers.  

 

It was so easy, she thought, to pretend.  She let one arm go and grabbed the base of his dick, guiding it into her body.  She sank down, her head thrown back, the feeling of fullness, of heat, of friction against the inner muscles of her body almost too much.  Orgasm with a new partner was a challenge sometime - but not with him.  Not with her body still primed, her breasts still aching, and Frank’s face in her head.

 

“Fuck,” she said.  She opened her eyes and looked down, saw the skull, smearing, but still painted on her body.

 

And she let out a breath and started to move. 

* * *

 

She unlocked her door and walked in to see Frank, wearing a white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants - both items of clothing  _ she’d  _ bought him for when he needed a place to crash. He was on the couch, the dim light of the television bathing him in a cool, ethereal glow. “Hey,” he grunted.  There was the leftover crust and bowl from a freezer-burned pot pie he’d eaten sitting on the coffee table. “Home late.”

 

“Yeah,” she said. She twisted the strap of her purse in her hands, standing in front of her door. She locked it, then took her shoes off and put her purse on the hook. She was slow, deliberate, much more careful than she would usually be about her coming home ritual. She didn’t want him to know.

 

If Matt were there he could smell the sex on her, he could hear her breathing get heavier and her heartbeat accelerate. But Frank just looked from her back to the tv, oblivious.

 

“It was a pretty good date.”

 

He didn’t respond.

 

She swallowed. “Are you staying the rest of the night? He looked back at her and her throat closed, something tightening around her heart. It squeezed and she let out a ragged breath. “It’s fine of course, like always. I just wondered.” And hoped he wouldn’t, not that night, not when she would have to lay in the same apartment and think about what she’d done, what she wanted to do to him. 

 

He nodded and she tried to smile, turned away to go to the bedroom.

 

“Karen,” he said, and she stopped mid stride.  His voice was gruff and no different than usual, but in it her name sounded as sacred as a prayer.   “You okay?”

 

Something - the truth, maybe - threatened to tear its way out of her throat and she clenched her fists at her sides. “I’m okay,” she said, her voice steady.  What would he say if she told him, she wondered.  What would he say if she asked for what she really wanted, instead of using someone else as a substitute.  It might destroy whatever fragile connection they’d built.  She didn’t want that.  So she glanced at him over her shoulder and said, in a quiet voice, “Good night.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So I just finished the series "Selfie" and if you picture Christopher as a buffer John Cho, no one will blame you. Personally, I pictured hot guy who comes into the library where I work to study a lot, but somehow I think that might just be me.
> 
> Also, as you may have noticed, this is a continuation of a previous story - "Excuses." And I hadn't had any plans to continue it, but three or four people commented on the last one and apparently that was enough to ignite some sort of idea, because here we are. I... do not know how I feel about this? I generally don't write original characters, especially not one this important to a fic. So, uh. I'm actually not expecting people to read this, but if you do THANK YOU. Also, if you comment I ~may write a part three~


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